


Faithful Dogma

by meanderingmirth



Series: Short Collection [2]
Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 10:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4057279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meanderingmirth/pseuds/meanderingmirth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various drabbles about a mysterious new job, fighting in giant Jaegers, apartment buildings, a slightly altered fairy tale, thieves, surprises, and a special tattoo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faithful Dogma

**Author's Note:**

> more oneshots! when will I ever properly structure my stories? we just don’t know… ☆=(ゝω･) 
> 
> enjoy!

_1\. Minutes (Taekwoon/Sanghyuk - inspired by the setting of Eternity)_

“Don’t. Touch. Anything,” Taekwoon says, frowning as he shoots Sanghyuk a sharp glare when the younger reaches out to poke at a glowing lightbulb curiously. Sanghyuk retracts his finger quickly, hastily stammering out an apology, but his mentor is already strolling across the cluttered room, pushing boxes of what looked like old brass stargazing equipment aside with the same stiff expression on his face. Sanghyuk hovers, observing his new home with an interested eye. Taekwoon lived in a small studio flat built behind the grinding gears at the very top floor of the gloomy city’s ancient clock tower, a place Sanghyuk didn’t even know existed until now. It looked barely habitable for one person, let alone two now that Sanghyuk was officially moving in.

“Did you build this place yourself?” he asks, voice echoing a little around the spacious area, and Taekwoon gives him a flat look.

“Of course not. It’s been here for centuries. It was my mentor’s before it was mine, and her mentor’s before it was her’s, and her mentor’s mentor’s before— you get the point.”

“Right,” Sanghyuk says nervously, scuffing his shoe against the ground. He shifts his grip on his tattered suitcase until Taekwoon sighs and wordlessly takes his luggage away from him and sets it down by the mismatched sofas in the middle of the studio, leaving Sanghyuk to awkwardly follow. They stand in an uncomfortable silence for several moments until Taekwoon finally asks, “So what did the Academy tell you about your new post here?”

Sanghyuk shrugs his shoulders, momentarily unable to make eye contact. Taekwoon’s gaze is so sharp, so focused. “Nothing, other than I was chosen from the pool of highly intelligent and competitive candidates to assist with your, uh, research outside of the campus.” He neglects to mention that he didn’t even know he was being evaluated for such a position until the school practically kicked him out with nothing but his personal items and a scrap of paper with Taekwoon’s name and an address to the clock tower written on it.

“Did they tell you what kind of research?” Taekwoon asks, tilting his head, and Sanghyuk shakes his head.

“Nothing. They said you’d tell me.”

“Right,” Taekwoon says, eyes roaming over Sanghyuk once more before he straightens and shoots a glance at the large, giant gears of the clock moving mournfully behind them. “I hold a simple, but complex position within this...  _research_  I’ve been working on after I finished my apprenticeship with my mentor, and your purpose here is to learn everything I know and train as my new successor.”

“Your  _successor_?” Sanghyuk splutters, shock and confusion rising up in him. “But I’m— I’m just a student, I’m nobody really, and I don’t even have the best grades in the Academy—”

“Grades,” Taekwoon interrupts softly, “Do not matter with what we’re going to do.”

Sanghyuk gulps, feeling a chill run down his spine. “Then what is it that I’m going to learn?” he whispers, and Taekwoon finally smiles, confident and sharp.

“I’m going to teach you how to control time.”

 

_2\. Sync (Taekwoon/Hongbin - Pacific Rim!AU)_

They say it’s silent in the Drift, but Hongbin’s often thought that that’s not really the case. After the initial rush of blue-white flashes as they meld consciousness ( _running through the Buddhist temple as a child, picking up a soccer ball for the first time, meeting up with friends in the park, listening to songs on the radio on long car drives falling in the grass watching fireworks flames and burning buildings and screaming for his parents andrubbleeveywhereandkaijuKaijuKAIJU_ —)

There it is.

A heartbeat.

If Hongbin listens very closely, despite the bone-shaking hum of the Jaeger around them, he can hear two beats, even though they’re matched so well together it’s nearly one. That sounds so god damn cheesy, but Hongbin knows Taekwoon’s secretly a romantic at heart. He’d appreciate the train of thought.

A nudge in the back of his mind draws Hongbin back to the present, away from the floaty stream of the Drift, and Taekwoon’s giving him one of those looks that usually proceeds a light kick in the ass for not paying attention. It’s probably a good thing that both of them are tangled up in their harnesses in the cockpit of their Jaeger, legs pumping in synchronized, exaggerated walking motions, powering the giant robot through the harbour. Hongbin chuckles and spells out his apologies through the Drift. There’s no need to talk, because Taekwoon can hear everything before it’s even said out loud.

“ROVIX, there’s movement on your eight o’ clock,” Jaehwan’s voice cuts in over the comms, and Taekwoon and Hongbin turn their heads together, and the whole structure of the Mark IV Jaeger moves with them. They can sense it too, the monstrous shape that’s moving fast towards them from over Hongbin’s left shoulder.

“Rangers, don’t let that monster take one step closer to the city,” Hakyeon says, probably from over Jaehwan’s shoulder as their Marshall commands (and secretly frets) over them back at the Dome.

“Roger that LOCENT,” Hongbin says, tapping the glowing buttons on his panel. The starlight canon powers up in the Jaeger’s arms, and he can feel the entire machine vibrating with the force of it. Next to him, Taekwoon tenses.

“Easy,” Hongbin whispers, not wanting to react too quickly and tip the Kaiju off, and Taekwoon snorts.

“It’s coming,” his co-pilot says, raising his normally soft voice over the hum of the metal, and Hongbin grins. 

“Then let’s go fishing.”

The Category 3 Kaiju bursts from the ocean, leaping right over the Jaeger, and they react as one. One of the alien’s limbs catches their Jaeger and it forces them to take several staggering steps back, but Taekwoon fires the canon twice in quick succession, managing to shoot the Kaiju in the stomach whilst dislodging it. The creature keens horribly and falls back into the waves, leaving Hongbin and Taekwoon to chase after it. There’s a sudden burst of noise from the control panel, and then Hongbin realizes, a second too late, that it’s warnings from the Jaeger’s exterior sensors, and the Kaiju’s armoured tail is swinging upwards towards them.

“Look out!” he shouts, and pitches the Jaeger sideways. The razor-sharp tail sinks into the shoulder of the Jaeger, making the machine screech, and pain rockets up Hongbin’s arm. It’s not real, he tries to tell himself as he screams, it’s not his arm that’s being sawed off but the feeling still moves through him because of the Drift, and even though Taekwoon’s operating the right hemisphere, he yells in pain because of his connection to Hongbin. Oh god, he didn’t want Taekwoon to feel that either.

He falls when the Kaiju jerks is tail, still stuck into the Jaeger’s shoulder, and the motion nearly tears Hongbin out of his harness. There’s flashes of blue and white before his eyes again, and distantly, somewhere in the back of his mind, he hears Taekwoon’s voice. But all he can see are the moments caught in his stream of consciousness, echoing around him ( _arriving at VIXX Dome for the first time, going through Drift sequences, nobody is compatible, weeping hopelessly in the rafters alone, meeting Taekwoon for the first time, getting his ass handed to him in sparring, Drift compatibility, tests, neural engagement, falling into step with the older man, finishing his sentences like it’s a second nature, holding him when Taekwoon’s nightmares come back to haunt him, combing his fingers through Taekwoon’s hair, not wanting to let go, never letting go—_ )

“HONGBIN!” Taekwoon yells, and he snaps out of it, clawing his way back to the present, and the previously immobile left side of the Jaeger come back to life. They straighten and Hongbin grits his teeth, forcing the damaged left arm to move, to grab onto the Kaiju as Taekwoon’s thoughts become his again. The older pilot powers the canon up one last time and he discharges. The blast catches the Kaiju in the cavity of its chest, and radioactive neon gunk explodes all over them as the monster sinks once more, this time without the means to rise again.

They stand for a moment, panting, struggling to catch their breaths until static crackled over the comms again, and Jaehwan’s voice says, “It’s down. Good work.”

“Excellent,” Hongbin pants, flicking his sweaty hair out of his eyes, and Taekwoon grunts in agreement.

“Head back to base, gentlemen,” Hakyeon adds. “You’ve fought well.”

“Ten-four,” Hongbin mumbles, flicking the comms off once again, and glances over at Taekwoon. The other man inclines his head, and they lift their feet as one, moving the Jaeger back to the Dome. The docking process is all auto-pilot; something they’re both grateful training has ingrained into their heads because Hongbin is freaking  _winded_  after a fight. All he wants is a nap. He knows Taekwoon wants a shower, and food. Taekwoon always wants food.

There are people helping them out of their harnesses and powering down the Jaeger for them once they’re stable, and Hongbin only experiences a moment of strange restlessness as his mind is emptied of the Jaeger’s functions and Taekwoon’s thoughts before things settle again. They’ve known each other and fought together for so long now; they’re the ones who know each other better than anybody.

And like everything else they do, they move in sync across the pod, Hongbin’s shoulder still stinging and Taekwoon’s eyes full of single-minded determination, and finally collapse into each other’s arms.

 

_3\. Floors (Hakeyon/Jaehwan - making a confusing mistake)_

When the elevator  _dings_  and the doors slide open, the old lady that’s been riding up the lift with Jaehwan practically trips over her loafers scrambling away from him, shopping bags knocking about her knobbly knees as she walks. Jaehwan doesn’t blame her; the whole time they’ve been standing together in the silent elevator he’s had the expression of an incredibly temperamental bear carved into his face. Normally he’d feel bad, but not this morning, when he’s got a bag of the lacy lingerie and boxers his cheating ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend left behind in his apartment when they fled after Jaehwan caught them together yesterday night. He figures he could’ve just tossed the undergarments out, but now Jaehwan has a prime excuse to go up to his ex’s apartment and deliver a few choice words, preferably accompanied by a good right hook to the face.

The elevator travels up to the next floor, and when the doors open for a second time he stomps out of the elevator, slightly regretful that the carpeted floor muffles his angry footsteps. He walks purposefully down the hall, locates his ex’s flat, and slams his palm onto the wood next to the brass number 6.

“Oi,” he hollers. “Open up, asshole.”

For about thirty seconds there’s no response, but Jaehwan really didn’t expect it to be that easy. He balls his free hand into a fist and starts to really pound on the door.

“I know you’re in there,” he shouts, adding a kick for good measure. “I’ve got some of your crap out here, you filthy cheating scumbag, unless you’re too chicken shit to face me after what you tried to do.”

There’s a thump behind the door, and to Jaehwa’s intense satisfaction he can hear the lock turning. Finally, he can vent everything out. As the front door opens he moves to chucks the bag at his ex— only, it’s  _not_  his ex-boyfriend, and Jaehwan barely manages to stop himself from throwing undergarments at the vividly red-haired man who answers the door, wearing shorts and a dark tank top and a furious expression that probably mirrors Jaehwan’s own.

“What,” the red-haired guy says, and he still manages to sound royally pissed off despite the exhausted pallor of his face, “Is your god damn  _problem_?”

His initial thought went something along the lines of ‘oh my god, did my ex cheat on me with a  _third_ person?’, and then Jaehwan’s line of sight moves past the enraged male and into the apartment that doesn’t look anything like his boyfriend’s apartment at all.

“What the hell?” Jaehwan says, trying to crane his neck to look inside. The walls are painted a pale grey, there’s an expensive stereo set pushed up against the wall and everything looks significantly cleaner.

“Do you know what  _time_  it is?” the guy demands, snapping his fingers in front of Jaehwan’s face to catch his attention. “I’ve only been asleep for half an hour before your noisy ass woke me up.”

“Who are you?” Jaehwan asks intelligently, and the other man draws himself up to his full height, even though he still ends up a little shorter than Jaehwan.

“My name is Cha Hakyeon, and I live in this apartment,” Hakyeon snaps. “Now should I ask who you are or are you gonna beat it before I chase you out with a mop? Because I have done that before.”

Jaehwan stares blankly, mind struggling to process all the new information at once. “You’re not my ex,” he manages to say, and Hakyeon squints at him.

“Well spotted. I tend to remember who I date, even if not so much my one night stands. I’m pretty sure we’ve never met, buddy, and I’m definitely not the guy you’re looking for. Did he give you the wrong address or something?”

“Wait, hang on...” Jaehwan says slowly, thinking back to the route he took on his trip over before a horrible realization dawns on him and he looks up at Hakyeon, who’s leaning against his doorframe with an incredibly unimpressed look on his face and has his arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh my god, fuck me,” Jaehwan splutters, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks, and the bag of clothes feels like a ton in his hands. “I’m in the wrong fucking building.”

Hakyeon’s eyebrow arches, and then his stiff demeanour breaks as he bursts out laughing, bonking his head against the wall as he wheezes. Jaehwan’s flush grows hotter, and he’s embarrassed as hell, really, but then he’s also a little starstruck because,  _wow_ , this guy looks incredibly good when he’s smiling.

“Glad we sorted that out,” Hakyeon finally says, still snickering. Jaehwan ducks his head and mumbles a hurried apology, rubbing the back of his neck futilely as he makes to turn away. “Although,” he continues on, and Jaehwan stops, looking back.

Big mistake. Hakyeon’s expressive eyes are boring into his now, mouth curved upwards in a little smirk that makes Jaehwan’s face burn as he says, “My name’s not  _god_ , by any far stretch, but if you’re back in the singles’ club now that you’re rid of the ‘filthy cheating scumbag’...” he trails off, leaving the implication hanging in the air, and Jaehwan audibly gulps.

“You know where to find me,” Hakyeon grins, and then he steps back into his apartment and shuts the door with a definitive snap, leaving Jaehwan standing outside, staring at the brass number 6, and tries to reel in his thoughts.

“Oh my god,” he finally says, voice barely a whisper. “ _Fuck_  me.”

 

_4\. Midnight (Wonshik/Sanghyuk - a dark fairy tale)_

It could’ve been worse, Sanghyuk thinks as he observes the damage his stepbrothers had inflicted onto his suit in the reflection of the fountain’s water. They’d thought he was trying to sneak out to attend the royal ball when he’d only been retrieving the suit from the wash, and they’d promptly tried to destroy the poor article of clothing while accusing Sanghyuk of trying to seduce the prince at the dance. As  _if_  Sanghyuk would ever want anything to do with that royal family.

His stepbrothers and his stepmother had shouted some pretty nasty things to him too, but nothing that hasn’t been said before, and all three of them were so preoccupied with attending the ball that they’d gotten distracted pretty quickly and left Sanghyuk to pick up the scraps of his ruined suit in the grand foyer. The remains of his father’s old suit, his mind tacks on bitterly, and Sanghyuk scowls heavily, bunching up the shredded jacket in his hands. He whips it across the yard to vent his frustration, but to his shock the jacket suddenly collides with thin air and a voice shouts, “OW!”

Sanghyuk leaps to his feet with a yell, almost tripping backwards into the fountain as a man suddenly materializes five feet from where he was sitting, tugging the jacket off him with an annoyed look on his face. “Watch where you’re throwing your shit,” he snaps, tossing the jacket back to Sanghyuk, who catches it in shock.

“Who the hell are you?” he demands, looking the other up and down. The man is wearing some kind of slim-fitting leather outfit, all straps and buckles, and his eyes are beautifully lined with dark eyeliner. His hair is a painfully obnoxious orange.

He also reeks of magic.

“ _Who the hell are you?_ ” the man mimics, frowning petulantly at Sanghyuk. “How do you not know who I am? I’m famous!”

“Do I look like I give a damn?” Sanghyuk grumbles. “Get out of my yard.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to your father’s old associate, Han Sanghyuk.”

Sanghyuk jerks in surprise, eyes snapping back up to the man’s face, searching for any recognizable features but finding none. “How do you know my father?” he says in a rush, heart pounding very fast all of a sudden. The man gives Sanghyuk a bland look and sticks out his fist; there’s a heavy-set, ornate brass ring set with the royal army’s insignia sitting on his index finger. Sanghyuk stares. “You were a magician in my father’s division,” he says, and the magician nods.

“Yup. Still don’t recognize me?” he adds, and when Sanghyuk shakes his head, the magician scoffs. “The name’s Wonshik, kid, remember it. I’m the first and last royal magician that managed to ‘betray’ that pathetic excuse of a king and live to tell the tale.” Wonshik sarcastically adds air quotes when he spits out the word  _betray_  like one would a bite of rotten food. “I served under your father until we were sent out to the front lines in the most thinly veiled attempt to get rid of us. I’m guessing you know by now the consequences of your father’s stand against the king about continuing the war,” he tacks on, and Sanghyuk looks away.

“Dad was only trying to do the right thing,” he snaps through gritted teeth, and Wonshik snorts, twirling a dark magician’s wand in his hand.

“And look where that landed him,” Wonshik hums, and Sanghyuk’s blood boils over. He’s on his feet and in front of Wonshik in an instant, hauling the magician up by his collar. The other man may be older, but Sanghyuk is taller. “Shut the fuck up about my father,” he snarls as Wonshik irritably bats at Sanghyuk’s hands.

“I’m not trying to talk smack about your old man, kid, take it easy.”

“I don’t care. Get out of my yard,” Sanghyuk growls, giving Wonshik a shake, and then his hands are grasping at nothing and Wonshik’s boot is connecting with his ass, sending Sanghyuk stumbling forwards.

“Firm,” Wonshik laughs from where he’s rematerialized behind the teen, and Sanghyuk whips around.

“Get lost!” he yells.

“But I came all this way,” Wonshik pouts. “And I have a proposition for you.”

Sanghyuk snorts derisively. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me the handsome prince at the ball is going to fall madly in love with me once he sees me don your magical creation and whisk me away from this hellhole,” he says, giving the magician a challenging look, but the man just laughs.

“‘Course not,” Wonshik snickers at him, not at all disguising the once-over the gives the teen, and Sanghyuk feels his ears go red before the other continues. “Why would I hand you over to that crusty momma’s boy when you can do so much better hanging out with  _me_?”

Sanghyuk blinks, and then his ears are warm for an entirely different reason now. “Wait, what do you mean hanging out with you?”

Wonshik gestures grandly to himself, and the air seems to ripple with magic as he does. “I mean that I’m going to use my magic and give you a new suit, and off you’ll go to the ball, where the prince  _will_ indeed fall madly in love with you, but instead of you getting happily hitched and gaining in-laws that essentially murdered your father, I’ll step in and get you out of this household.”

“That’s not how the fairy tale goes,” Sanghyuk says sarcastically, and Wonshik sneers.

“I ain’t your fairy godmother, you punk, but I can honestly say that I do have an interest in you, and in exchange for my amazing company and getting you out of this frankly pretty shit excuse of a family, you’re going to have to complete a task for me before midnight strikes.”

“Why midnight?”

“I’m sneaking you into one of the most heavily guarded places in the country,” Wonshik deadpans. “My magic can only hold out for so long against hundreds of other royal magicians’.”

“Let me guess, the suit will vanish and I’ll end up naked in the middle of a ballroom if I don’t complete your task,” Sanghyuk sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Wonshik laughs.

“Maybe, but that’s not the worst that will happen. If things go well and you don’t screw up, you won’t end up on death row the next morning.”

“ _Death row_?” Sanghyuk repeats incredulously, resisting the urge to grab Wonshik by the collar again. “What the  _hell_  are you getting me to do?”

“You’re going to go an assassinate the crown prince,” Wonshik says with a feral grin, and Sanghyuk feels his stomach drop to the floor.

“You want me to assassinate the prince?” he whispers, and never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined one of his father’s former associates appearing in his yard instructing him to kill.

Wonshik’s still grinning, but his eyes are cold now, heavy. He practically oozes dark energy, and Sanghyuk suddenly remembers that his magician had gone out to kill others with his magic in the war. “We both know the king is old. He’s trying to marry off his son in the hopes of continuing the bloodline. The prince is also a prominent figure in a war that’s taken way too many lives, and this is a once in a blood moon opportunity. I figured we both had something to gain from this, Sanghyuk, so what’s it going to be?”

Sanghyuk swallows, throat dry and fingers trembling, but he’s already impossibly drawn into the endless depths of Wonshik’s eyes, falling for the ominous depths, the raw desire for vengeance, and the tantalizing hope of finally getting out. It’s a no-brainer, really.

“Deal.”

 

_5\. Misconduct (Hakyeon/Hongbin - thieves!AU)_

“I sense... a lot of negative energy in your married life,” Hakyeon hums, running his fingers over the smooth surface of the crystal ball, pretending to squint into the depths of the glass. He sees his face in the reflection, and grimaces. His eyeliner’s smudged in the afternoon heat.

The young woman sitting across from him gasps, apparently taking the frown on his face for something else. “What is it, what do you see?” she whispers, clutching her hands to her chest. Hakyeon looks up and smiles serenely at her.

“All of your fortunes, madam. There has been some kind of dispute between you and your partner. You think he’s up to something.”

“Yes!” she gasps, edging forwards. “Yes, how did you know?”

It’s quite simple, really. Hakyeon knows because his partner-in-crime, Hongbin, has been keeping an eye out on her husband courting another pretty gal before conveniently mentioning the appearance of an infamous fortune teller in the area who, shockingly, knew  _everything_  about  _everybody_  in the area.

“Am I right in guessing that a heated argument has taken place in your household?” Hakyeon asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“Yes!” the woman wails, eyes wide. “What can you see? What can you tell me?”

“Hmm,” Hakyeon hums, furrowing his brows and clenching his eyes shut. God, there’s a lot of dust today. And the humidity is so damn high. All those scented candles lighting up his fortune-telling tent is really making him sweat. “There is something you should know about your husband, madam,” he says in hushed tones, eager to finish the session. “The answer to your suspicions lies in a theatre ticket. You must find that ticket, and from there on you will find the truth behind your husband’s secrets.”

“A theatre ticket?” she whispers, confusion evident in her face, and Hakyeon nods solemnly. Hongbin spotted the guy buying tickets for a play for the other woman and tipped Hakyeon off this morning.

“That’s what you’ll need to find, madam.”

“Can’t you tell me more?” she pleads, suddenly reaching over to grab his hands, and Hakyeon winces at the warmth of her palms. It’s too warm to be doing  _anything_  today.

“The mystic eye,” he says with an air of secrecy as he untangles their hands, “Does not reveal all the answers so easily. You must advance with your life first, and then return, and we’ll see where your fortunes have gone from there.”

“I see,” the woman says, biting her lip. “So that’s it?” she asks, and Hakyeon nods.

“Until another day, madam.”

She nods and quickly rummages through her bag for a thick brown pouch, heavily weighted with gold coins, and it takes most of Hakyeon’s self-restraint to keep himself from snatching the bag out of her hands and shooing her off. Instead, he nods at her and watches her duck out of the flap of the tent. For a moment, the beams of still-hot evening sunlight floods into the tent, and then it’s blocked by a larger shadow and Hongbin quickly ducks in after the woman, hair dusty and face shiny with sweat.

“That took you forever,” the younger man groans, weaving around all the mismatched, so-called fortune telling junk piled spilling off of the stout tables in the tent before flopping down onto the squashy cushions scattered on the floor. “Ah, jeez, it’s  _boiling_  in here.”

“You’ve only been inside for a second,” Hakyeon sneers, whipping his ornately decorated cloak off him heatedly, making beads and metal jewellery jangle loudly. “I’ve been roasting in here since noon!”

“It was’t like I was down at the public baths or swimming in the river either,” Hongbin says crossly, sliding his messenger bag off his shoulders before stripping off his jacket and shirt. “I was outside in the market, snooping around like you told me to, and you know how busy it is during trade season.”

“Well I can’t go around faking fortune telling  _and_  tail potential clients,” Hakyeon grumbles, crawling around the table to search for the stash of liquor bottles hidden in the shade of his trunk. “It’s a team effort, Binnie, so don’t go complaining now.”

“It’s been a long day, let me have my moment,” Hongbin mumbles, snatching up a silk fan to cool himself with. Hakyeon digs out two glasses from another box and shoves the crystal ball unceremoniously off the table, letting it drop onto the cushions. If it breaks, he’ll just bug his glassmaker friend Wonshik to make him another one.

“Did you get any more information today?” Hakyeon asks, wrenching at the cork jammed into the bottle. Hongbin shrugs, and the movement rolls over his broad shoulders fluidly.

“Same old. Picked up some rumours about several business owners when I was going through the lower riverbanks, heard more gossip from some pregnant ladies near the food stalls, and, ah, you’ll like what I lifted off of the people in the streets—” Hongbin grabs his messenger bag and turns it over, letting several money pouches, a few leather knick-knacks and some old, rustic necklaces with heavy, multi-coloured gemstones set in them. Hakyeon lets out an appreciative  _ooh_  when he sees the necklaces, watching Hongbin rearrange them for his inspection.

“My aesthetic,” he grins around a mouthful of cork, struggling to pull the stopper out with his teeth now. He yanks a bit too forcefully and the bottle pops out, splashing fruity wine all over his hands, and Hakyeon spits the cork out with a snarl of frustration.

But before he could let loose a string of curses that could probably curdle milk, Hongbin reaches over and snatches Hakyeon’s hands, slowly bringing them up to his lips. He darts out his tongue, flicking over the droplets of wine running down Hakyeon’s hand, and the elder feels his breath hitch. Hongbin’s tongue dips between Hakyeon’s fingers and then trails down Hakyeon’s palm until he stops short of the sensitive skin on the inside of Hakyeon’s wrist, eyes glittering as he pulls away, smug.

“Isn’t the first rule of drinking  _don’t waste good drinks_?” Hongbin says, and Hakyeon kicks him.

“I thought it was  _don’t start something you can’t finish_ ,” Hakyeon grumbles, turning to pour the wine into the glasses. He spies Hongbin watching him out of the corner of his eye, gaze lingering around the general vicinity of Hakyeon’s neck. The heat of the tent and the scents of the candles makes his head swirl as he sits amongst the pile of pick-pocketed goods with a gorgeous, shirtless light-fingered thief. Hakyeon smirks as he slides a glass over to Hongbin before tossing back his own drink, relishing in the alcohol.

He might be a scamming deceiver in real life, but Hakyeon didn’t need any fortune telling abilities, fraudulent or not, to know they’re going to have some fun together tonight.

 

_6\. Home (Hakyeon/Taekwoon - a surprise)_

The doorbell rings at a quarter past noon as it does every day, and Hakyeon all but trips over his own feet scrambling out of his office and down the stairs to answer the door. He stumbles onto the foyer and yanks the front door open to reveal an amused-looking Jaehwan in his postman’s uniform, a pile of mail for Hakyeon in his hand.

“I love Mondays,” Jaehwan sighs happily, adjusting his cap. “You’re always down to get the mail in 0.5 seconds. Every other day of the week I could break down your door with a hatchet and you’d probably still be upstairs watching some damn cat video or crying over your photo album.”

“Ha ha,” Hakyeon grumbles sarcastically, grabbing the post out of Jaehwan’s hands. “Your job’s done, now get off my porch.”

“So cruel!” Jaehwan moans, clutching at his chest with a wounded look on his face. “After all these years, have our friendship meant nothing to you?”

“Not when I’ve got mail to read,” Hakyeon says, glowering, and Jaehwan grins.

“You mean you’ve got Taekwoon’s new letter to read,” he teases, and Hakyeon sniffs, turning his head. “Aw, don’t be like that,” Jaehwan says, patting Hakyeon’s shoulder. “He’ll be back before you know it.”

“He’s still got three weeks of meetings and work left,” Hakyeon mumbles.

“You’ve lasted nearly six months with him working overseas, I’m sure you’ll live.”

“But it’s my  _birthday_  soon too!”

“He’ll Skype you, I’m sure.”

“But I miss him,” Hakyeon whines, and Jaehwan squints at him.

“Y’know, I’m starting to think you should’ve let Taekwoon adopt fifty cats from the shelter. At least you would’ve had company.”

“Shut up,” Hakyeon grumbles. Jaehwan chuckles and finally bids him goodbye, letting Hakyeon deal with his post in peace. There’s a few bills that he chucks aside without looking at and some advertisement for growing extra facial hair that he sneakily sets aside, and then Hakyeon’s eagerly opening Taekwoon’s latest letter.

His boyfriend has been sending him little gifts and mail every single Monday since he’d moved to another country, in a pretty light blue envelopes, without a fail. It was both a manifestation of Taekwoon’s more romantic side that knew Hakyeon liked receiving handwritten letters and a cute way of staying in contact, but then Taekwoon had started mailing Hakyeon little artifacts that he claimed reminded him of his boyfriend when he saw it or thought would be a nice souvenir. This exchange positively tickled Hakyeon’s lovey-dovey side, and he kept each and every gift and letter he’d gotten. Some of his favourite gifts included a variety of flavoured teas, a series of good-luck charms from some rural district, some recipes of foods he’d thought Hakyeon would like, and once, in a giant parcel, a hand-stitched ram plushie that now presides next to Hakyeon’s pillow and is snuggled lovingly every night.

His boyfriend’s messages are equally treasured as well:

_‘I’ve finally adjusted to the time difference, so I’m not waking up every night at odd hours. The firm is a good place; it’s got a nice view of the river outside. You’ll be happy to know one of the guys in my office found that well-wishing talisman you snuck into my things and insisted I put it up. It compliments my desk well.’_

_‘The project is coming along good. Things are moving smoothly. Went to a few tourist districts with some foreign co-workers and was accidentally mistaken for some Korean singer. That was odd.’_

_‘Went to an arts festival downtown, it looked beautiful. Brought you some of the local craftwork too. I saw a dance performance as well, I wish I’d brought a better camera and filmed it for you, you would’ve liked it.’_

This week’s letter was just as brief as the others, but Hakyeon still makes himself comfortable on the sofa with a cup of coffee before smoothing the paper out to read.

_‘I hear this movie’s coming out next week back at home. Its release date is two weeks earlier than the one in this country. Will you go watch it for me? I have a feeling you’ll enjoy it. Consider it an early birthday gift from me. See you soon. -Taekwoon.’_

Enclosed is a printout and a reciept of the ticket Taekwoon must’ve purchased online. Hakyeon turns it over, finding VIP seats and a coupon for drinks and popcorn as well. He pouts to himself, now reminded that Taekwoon wouldn’t be home to celebrate his birthday properly, but also pleased that his boyfriend remembered. He momentarily considers calling up one of his friends to go with him, but quashes the idea. This was something just for him, from Taekwoon. Smiling to himself, Hakyeon marks down the date on his phone’s calendar, looking forwards to a peaceful night of overpriced theatre food and big-screen watching.

But to his surprise, he runs into Sanghyuk and Hongbin at the theatres a week later anyway, spotting the pair hovering awkwardly at a self-serve ticket stand for some reason. Eagerly calling their names, Hakyeon rushes over.

“What are you guys doing here?” he asks after a customary cat-and-mouse chase with his juniors that ends in Sanghyuk hunched over and grumbling from under Hakyeon’s arm around his shoulders. “You two on a date?”

Sanghyuk splutters, but Hongbin just shrugs, a weird glint in his eye. “Nah, we just happened to come and catch a movie. Spontaneously. Weird we’d be seeing you here. What a coincidence, eh?”

Hakyeon squints at him. “What are you up to?” he asks, his mom radar going off already, but Hongbin lifts his shoulders again and doesn’t say anything else. Before Hakyeon could ask, Sanghyuk gives him a light kick the the shin and wiggles out from under Hakyeon’s hold, ignoring his yelp of pain.

“Oh, by the way, I was supposed to give this to you,” Sanghyuk says in a sing-song voice, subsequently distracting Hakyeon’s annoyance. He pulls a light blue envelope out of his jacket pocket, and Hakyeon’s eyes widens as he snatches the it right out of Sanghyuk’s hands.

“Why do you have this?” he asks, staring.

“You should open it,” Hongbin says airily, and Sanghyuk’s biting his lip and failing to hide his grin of amusement as Hakyeon all but tears the envelope open. Inside, there’s only a small slip of paper with Taekwoon’s slanted handwriting on it.

_‘Turn around.’_

Hakyeon’s head jerks up to look at his friends, shock written all over his face, but Hongbin and Sanghyuk’s attention is already directed at something over his shoulder, and it doesn’t take a genius to know who it is they’re looking at.

Then, a soft, familiar voice behind him says, “Hakyeon,” and that’s when the happy tears finally start to fall.

 

_7\. Ink (Jaehwan/Wonshik - special tattoos)_

The little metal sign hanging in the window of Wonshik’s tattoo parlour has been flipped to show the words  _closed_  for almost four hours when Jaehwan finally materializes out of the darkness on Wonshik’s doorstep, a cheerful grin on his face as he pushes the door open. The rusted bell on the door rattles as it slams shut behind the young wizard, and Wonshik looks up from where he’s doodling in his sketchbook on the couch, squinting in annoyance.

“You always pick the last possible second to come by for a visit.”

“You know me,” Jaehwan beams, sauntering over to push Wonshik’s book out of the way. He leans down for a kiss that Wonshik grudgingly returns, but not without a little nip to the other man’s lower lip. Jaehwan withdraws, giving Wonshik an exaggerated wink.

“Cheeky. How are you feeling tonight?”

“Very tired,” Wonshik says immediately, taking note of the suggestive glint in Jaehwan’s eye and the dismayed little pout that follows his words.

“Aw c’mon, I told you I’d be late today.”

“Not 1am late,” Wonshik replies matter-of-factly, dropping off his book onto the front desk before ducking into the backroom to prepare the materials needed for Jaehwan’s new tattoo. The wizard follows him, doing his best puppy-eyed expression, which used to work like a charm on Wonshik but has now lost a bit of its novelty. There were probably more literal charms Jaehwan could cast on him to get his way, Wonshik muses, but the wizard wouldn’t do that. For one, Wonshik would deck him stupid, and he’s been told he’s got a good aim with his fist.

“Which one were you thinking of getting today?” Wonshik asks, shifting through some of the designs Jaehwan had left with him before. A pair of arms slip around his waist from behind and Jaehwan’s chin comes to a rest on his shoulder, peering down at the sketches splayed out on the table. The warmth spreads down Wonshik’s back as Jaehwan presses closer, chewing on his lip as he thinks.

“I dunno. I thought of adding a few rune shapes to the ones I have already, but then again there’s always the useful tattoos, like the compass to help find directions and the tiger eyes to help search for things.”

“True,” Wonshik hums, flipping over another set of designs. “How about this one?” he asks, holding up a sketch of an owl taking flight. “Helps conceal your presence to non-magical people and lowers the senses on fantastical creatures.”

“You sure?” Jaehwan asks, raising an eyebrow. “The owl takes a while. You said you were tired.”

“I’m never tired of tattooing,” Wonshik says, and Jaehwan makes a face.

“Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re in a relationship with me or your work,” he whines, and Wonshik bats the clingy wizard off of him.

“Between your childish ass and an age-old artistic practice, picking my job is a no-brainer,” Wonshik teases, and Jaehwan practically howls. “Just take off your shirt and get your butt on the chair, you idiot,” Wonshik says, pushing Jaehwan out of his way as he searches for his machine and utensils.

“I won’t stand for this kind of treatment,” Jaehwan proclaims with an almighty sniff, but he hoists himself up onto the clean leather chair anyway and strips off his jacket, sweater and shirt, revealing pale but incredibly decorated skin.

The majority of Jaewhan’s chest is covered with ancient, magical runes that fortify his magic and enhances his capabilities. Curled around his left bicep is a snake (a horned adder to be exact) that moves round and round languidly, sometimes flicking its tongue out for a taste of the air. There’s an very detailed outline of Jaehwan’s collarbones that promotes good health, and on his back is a giant mahogany tree that anchors the core of Jaehwan’s magic, and changes according to the seasons that pass. Each and every single one of those tattoos were designed by Wonshik, who may not be magical the way Jaehwan is, but has a way with ink on skin that no other artist does.

“Where should this one go?” Wonshik asks, watching Jaehwan wiggle around to make himself comfortable.

“My hip seems like a good place,” the wizard muses, patting the slightly protruding bone on the right side of his body. “The hip is a sneaky location, right?”

“Not really,” Wonshik says, watching Jaehwan push his jeans and underwear down a little with a saucy wink. Rolling his eyes, Wonshik snapped his gloves on and started the machine, letting the low, familiar hum take over his mind as he sits down on a stool and begins his job.

There’s always an organic feeling to the creation of the tattoos he places on Jaehwan’s skin, and the fact that the designs are all magical only adds to it. Even the pieces that aren’t meant to live, like the runes or the celtic designs scrawled on Jaehwan’s shoulder blades, seem to breathe along with the steady rise and fall of Jaehwan’s chest. The wizard is leaning back into the chair, a slightly blissed-out look on his face that Wonshik usually associates with tattoo addicts that enjoy the endorphins way too much. Jaehwan’s not an addict by any means, not when he needs those tattoos to succeed in his occupation, but the man is a little bit crazy.

It takes a good three hours to finish off the outline and some of the minor details of the bird, but by the time Wonshik is poking Jaehwan awake, he swears he can see the bold yellowish eyes blinking up at him from Jaehwan’s hip already.

“Wow, lookin’ good,” Jaehwan grins, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “As I expected of an industry professional.”

“Glad to hear some verbal recognition of my skills,” Wonshik snickers, pulling his gloves off and disposing of them.

“Well, I am a little biased, since we’re dating and all, but I did read this eloquent review on your artwork online, where this guy was insistent on calling your swallowtail butterflies ‘dead winged slugs’.”

“He can go suck on it,” Wonshik sneers in reply, returning with a plastic covering and tape to place over the tattoo. “Don’t you dare scratch at this, Lee Jaehwan, or I’ll string you up by your toes for ruining another one of my designs.”

“Ooh, kinky,” Jaehwan teases, dodging the slap aimed at the back of the head. He bolts forwards and grabs Wonshik around the waist, pushing then out of the back room and onto the couch Wonshik had previously occupied, toppling them over a few cushions.

“Get off, you doofus,” Wonshik complains, but makes no movement to dislodge Jaehwan when the wizard crawls over him until he’s straddling Wonshik’s lap, looking intensely satisfied with himself.

“Before you close up for the night, I’ve got another request for you,” Jaehwan says, pulling a folded-up piece of paper out of his pocket. “Another design, though it’s not strictly related to my magic.”

“You’ve already got six tattoos lined up,” Wonshik squints. “I’m really gonna start charging you if you keep taking advantage of me like this.”

“You love me too much to do that,” Jaehwan chips, laying on the cutesy faces thick, and Wonshik pretends to barf before Jaehwan squeezes his sides with his knees, a dangerous look in his eyes.

“Don’t make that face at me, Wonshik, until you’ve seen what I wanted next.” He extends the slip of paper, and, curiosity taking over him, Wonshik takes it and unfolds it.

There is a date written on the paper— but not just any date.

“This is the date of our anniversary,” Wonshik blinks, and Jaehwan cheers, bouncing up and down until Wonshi’s cheeks colour at the sudden friction and slaps Jaehwan’s thigh to make him stop.

“Glad to know your two brain cells are still functioning,” Jaehwan teases. “But yes, that’s our anniversary date. Do you know why I’m getting it?”

Wonshik bites his lips, counting the days in his mind, and realization eventually dawns once his tired brain makes the connection. “Shockingly enough, I think it’s because our anniversary is coming up,” he deadpans, and Jaehwan coos, pinching Wonshik’s cheeks happily.

“That’s right! And I’ve been saving a spot for the numbers too!” He jabs his fingers on the left side of his chest, a smooth, untouched span of skin right over his heart, and Wonshik’s throat constricts a little.

“You’re so damn cheesy,” he moans, covering his face with his hands, and he hears Jaehwan’s breathy laugh before feeling his boyfriend’s lips pressing onto his knuckles.

“That’s me, cheesy and cutesy,” Jaehwan hums, resting his own hands on Wonshik’s chest. “And that’s five years you’ve spent with cheesy, cutesy me.”

“How time flies,” Wonshik chuckles, uncovering his face in favour of pulling Jaehwan down, closer to him. “Thoughtful of you to think of tattooing our day onto your own skin.”

“Mhm,” Jaehwan grins, going in for a peck and ending up with his tongue shoved halfway down Wonshik’s throat. “I do try.”

**Author's Note:**

> these were all... significantly longer than my other set of drabbles omg...
> 
> thanks for taking the time to read!


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